Kheelan went over. “I’ll be glad to show each of you to a spare bedroom.”
The nearest fairy patted his arm. “Ye be a good Tacharan,” he mumbled, shoving a chair to the floor as he rose unsteadily to his feet.
Kheelan had never been happier to serve the Fae as he directed each of the guests to a bed. Finvorra settled into his recliner by the fireplace and Kheelan watched and waited for the sleep to overcome, a hawk poised for flight. Once he slept, he’d find those damn truck keys. If the fates smiled favorably on him this Samhain, it would be his last look at any Guardian.
***
Incessant ringing . . . once, twice, three times. On the fourth ring, sensation slowly returned to her numbed nerves. The vibrating rhythm of the ring flowed through her body. Skye shivered and realized she lay on a cold, hard surface. Still, she couldn’t piece together any cohesive meaning to these isolated impressions. Her eyes opened and it was like looking into an old black and white TV set in the middle of a severe thunderstorm – all gray static and only dark outlines for shapes.
Angry words were spoken in clipped sentences. She knew that voice. Skye puzzled over it.
More sensation crept through her foggy brain. A burning on her wrists and a sound like a zipper shutting. More pain and the zipper noise by each ankle. Rough hands shook her shoulders.
“Listen to me, Skye. I want you conscious for this.”
A face loomed inches away. It was pale and the sagging skin lined with wrinkles. Eyelids of green sparkles and fuchsia lipstick smudged on thin, compressed lips.
Claribel.
Skye jerked back and tried to stand, only to feel the constraint of hot metal cutting into wrists and ankles.
Handcuffed.
“You are temporarily spared,” said Claribel. “That was Queen Morgana’s personal guard, calling with orders for me to keep you chained while I meet with the Queen at once to discuss what to do with you.” Claribel thoughtfully tapped the side of her cheek with bejeweled fingers. “I suspect armed guards will transport you to the celestial crystal sight and parade you in front of the Seelie Court fairies. Show them how close they were to vanquishing our race and then crush their spirits completely by a public execution.” She leaned into Skye until they were nose-to-nose. The smell of violets was overpowering.
“By all rights, killing you should be my privilege.” She jerked a fistful of Skye’s red and purple hair and twisted it viciously. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for eighteen years. When you walked in my shop, I knew who you were at once. Figured a silly twit like you would follow Tanner to college and be drawn to work here. I counted on that four years ago when I opened The Green Fairy.”
Skye drew a ragged breath when Claribel released her hair.
Claribel smiled and delicately traced small circles on Skye’s cheeks. “Until later my pretty,” she whispered. Abruptly, she faced the window and screamed, “Watch her closely,” to the Dark Fae watching outside. With no look back at her captive, Claribel made her way up the creaky steps and turned out the lights. The turn of the key in the lock echoed the basement like a ricocheting bullet.
She drank in deep, violet-scent free breaths. Claribel was gone. For now.
The relief didn’t last long. Her scalp was raw and tender. The iron in the handcuffs and leg restraints burned into her flesh. She checked their tightness. There was some give between the cuffs and flesh, so the burning had to be caused by her new fairy metal allergy. Terrific. Claribel had done a good job of restraining her. The handcuffs and leg irons were connected by a chain bolted around a concrete column. She stood and checked out her range of motion. Only about three feet in a circular direction.
Even more than her injuries, being chained like a dog preyed on her mind. What if a fire started? Or what if something happened to Claribel and she was stuck here twenty-four hours until Samhain’s midnight?
Where was Kheelan?
Please goddesses let him be alive. Claribel’s threats that she would never see him again were because of Claribel’s intention to kill her. It didn’t mean Kheelan had been hurt or was . . . dead.
Don’t go there.
A phone rang and the “Sweet Home Alabama” ringtone started. Her phone. In the eerie, orangey moonlight that lent an authentic Halloween aura, Skye tried to locate it by sound and sight.
There – only a few yards away. She searched frantically for an object to extend her reach and draw it to her. But there was nothing.
A beep sounded.
“Skye, it’s Callie. I have the most awful feeling that you’re in some kind of trouble. Please call me right away. And if for some reason you can’t –” A slight pause. “If you can hear me, and I sense you do, remember you have the power to overcome whatever the Fae throw at you.” More silence. “Call me as soon as you can.”
The line went dead.